March to May

It's an unusual entry that will possibly occur again

I'm craving sesame buns and bbq kalbi. I'm craving spicy ramen. I'm done craving. It's 2:29am. The internet is slow. I'll never finish Mad Men and having it pause every second frustrates me. I can't be frustrated at this time. It then started to play again, but for some reason the show changed into another show starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. This is what I get for streaming online and not owning AMC.

People are getting married. 7 years, break up, and after a few months of dating a church boy, she's getting married. She's younger than me. I don't know her. There is no relevance to this story.

This, I am warning you, is me writing at 2:31am now (I can't help but update on the time). I've been home for an hour. We left at 12:30 and the train wasn't working. I walked to 8th ave again. I love walking at night in the city. People are out. I feel safe.

I haven't had a chance to bake or make a decent dinner. This is when I know I'm busy. Before, I wouldn't go to events because I was "busy" and really, that just meant I didn't want to go. Now, when I say I'm "busy" I mean I have no time to relax when I get home. I go straight to bed (or try to watch Mad Men but fail).

I'm reading more. I'm sleeping less. My skin has never felt so disgusting. There are many things going on. I'm not making sense. Can't you tell by my short boring sentences?

He says I do too much, I want too much.

I feel something missing, and sometimes, that worries me. I want something, and it isn't there. I can't actually say what I want (because I can't put a finger on it) but I know I don't have it.

Does that make sense?

Love me, understand me, take care of me, show compassion, show interest, inspire me.

30 hours this week. 30 hours next week? And then I am off on the road. But I won't be writing a book and I won't be on drugs.

I'm looking forward to it, I am, but I'm also dreading it. Expectations, I have too many. And when things don't go my way, I become flustered. Who doesn't?

These short sentences will make no sense to me in seven hours. I'll re-read this, and will apologize to my dazed and confused self, and any readers out there.

This is not normal.

This is an entry that will go on, and it won't end because I won't end it.

I'm writing just because I've been wanting to write for so long, but had no time. I don't have time now, but I'm forcing myself to just write anything. Updates, updates are hard to type up. I find them boring. I like to recreate specific moments, the way I see them.

This entry is not about specific moments. Rather, it is about a mind that has not rested. Reflection is needed. Self awareness.

Don't become those girls who work all the time, and are too busy all the time.

Memories. People. Timeless. Joy. Facebook is a tragedy. Unread messages, glimpses of life. Picking at our curiosity. Our need to compare. Our need to know. We know too much, and too little. We know details, but not the whole. We know your public persona, but not you. We know what you want us to know. Know is a strange word and I really want to say now. We're hiding messages. We seek love. We want to be cared for. We want to belong. We need to belong. Interaction, even if virtual, somehow comforts us. It's a mess, and we've gone into deep. We don't have long chats. We check up on each other and know everything about each other without ever uttering a word. We know with our eyes. We know what you want us to know. Here we go again with the know. It's all a game.

Sleep will come in 10 minutes. Awake, again, at thirty pass eight. Train. Falling in and out of naps. The busy day will come and it will go, and before I know it, I'm here again, trying to watch a show, trying to slow down my day, but it will happen again. And I won't be able to tell you when it will stop.

A dream of mine? To be in a musical.

Chicago - Cell Block Tango

                                        

Wicked - Defying Gravity

The Sound of Music - So Long, Farewell

Singing in the Rain - Singin' in the Rain

Grease - Summer Nights

Rent - Seasons of Love

3 moving scams you should know about-- and 10 ways to avoid getting duped

Moving apartments is up there with some of life’s biggest stressors, and even the simplest moves (say, within your own building), can cause some anxiety (so many boxes! so much stuff to pack! and where is it all going to fit once you’re there?!).

Add any amount of shadiness from your mover, and that stress can get out of control.

Here are some of the most common NYC moving scams:

• Bait and switch: A mover offers you a great estimate (it'll usually seem too good to be true--which is why it's important to get several estimates) and then ups the price when it is too late to back out (like moving day). 
• The "hostage situation": Your belongings are held hostage and the only way to get them back is to pay more money. Sometimes this con is pulled in conjunction with the bait and switch -- they can threaten to keep your things in their truck until you pay them.
• Phantom delivery: A mover will load your belongings and promise to deliver them by a certain date. But you never see the mover, or your stuff, again. 

“The best single piece of guidance is  ‘Know who you are dealing with,’” advises John Bisney, of the American Moving & Storage Association. 

Here are 10 strategies for avoiding victimhood:

1. Ask friends. The best way to find a good mover is to get a recommendation from someone you know who’s had a good experience recently (say, in the last six months or so).

2. Check the reviews. Go on sites like Yelp, Citymove, andAngie’s List and read as many reviews as possible -- both the pros and cons for balanced feedback.  You can also call the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration’s Safety Violation and Consumer Complaints hotline (888-368-7238) to find out if there have been any complaints filed against the moving company.

3. Always take a look at the website.  If a moving company’s website has no physical address or phone number and looks like it was made by a high schooler, it probably was. You want to find a company that has been around long enough to acquire a solid reputation and intends to stick around, so that it has a strong interest in maintaining a good reputation.

4. Make sure your mover is authorized to move you. For moves within NYC, make sure your mover is licensed to operate by the New York State Department of Transportation (for verification call 800-786-5368 or emailnymoving@fot.state.ny.us). Again, every reputable moving company will be licensed, and by law, should provide their up-to-date license information which you should find on their website. If you can pull up the record of the moving company by entering the license number at the FMCSA website, that's a big indication that the company is serious about the business. 

5. Meet your movers in person. No phone. No email. No Facebook. Meet them face-to-face so you know exactly who you will be dealing with from beginning to end. Also make sure any estimates are done in your apartment to avoid any surprises. This way, they know exactly the items that need to be moved and can give a more accurate estimate.

6. Get everything in writing. Your mover should give you this booklet outlining expectations for both of you, a handwritten estimate, an order for service (an unofficial contract listing of all the services the mover will perform including the dates your stuff will be picked up and delivered), and the bill of lading (an official contract between you and the mover that explains, among other things, the mover's responsibility for damages) at the time of loading.

 7. Do not give a deposit. If the company asks for a large, up-front deposit, run away as fast as you can. Reputable movers never ask for deposits. Rather, the agreement to pay the full charges are stated in bill of lading. Generally, you should be paying upon delivery.

8. Pick a mover that offers both fixed rate and hourly rates. This way you can compare costs depending on how big and far your move is. If you are moving from, say, the Upper West Side to Williamsburg with a large amount of items, it might be better to have a fixed rate. An hourly rate is best for those with little to move.

9. Get multiple in-home estimates. Have several companies come to your apartment to provide an estimate of how much everything will cost. There can be large ranges between different companies.

10. Make sure you understand what you're covered for if something breaks or goes missing  

The minimum coverage required by New York State law is $.30 per pound per article. For example, if a 20-pound flatscreen, valued at $1,000, were lost or damaged, the mover would be liable for no more than $6 (20 pounds x .30 cents).  Minimum coverages for interstate moves, which are federally regulated, can be found here.

The other option is to buy full replacement value protection, meaning all items that are lost, broken or damaged will be either repaired, replaced with like items, or get a cash settlement. The exact cost for full value protection may vary by mover, so be sure to ask.

You may also have the option to purchase additional insurance from a third party (like Movinginsurance.com), your own insurance agent, or an insurance broker. If you have a homeowner's insurance policy, find out whether it covers property in transit.

Ask your mover to explain the cost and various coverage options available for your particular type of move. Be sure to read your bill of lading (which sets forth the liability of the mover for loss and damage) and check off the option you prefer.  Interstate moves are regulated by the federal government which require all movers to have insurance. 

Edited by Lucy Cohen Blatter for BrickUnderground

3 songs I'll always love

Some are original, some are covers, but these are my favorite versions. 

Phil Collins - Against all odds

Youth Group - Forever Young

Lauryn Hill - Killing Me Softly 

Dream catalogue: Taxi in the water

It was my birthday. I’m in a dark room with young people, who I assume are my friends. I ask a girl where we should go.

I know a place on 32nd, in K-town.

Is it good?

It’s dark, so it’s good to hook up and stuff.

Ok, let’s just go there.

My dad comes in.

“Tashi, tashi!”

Everyone stares. They don’t understand.

I laugh so hard I fall to the ground. He couldn’t say taxi correctly.

“Two tashi outside.”

There are two taxis waiting outside to take all of us.

Tony’s at the corner, his face fills the whole frame. He’s lit compared to the dark room, dressed in a light blue dress shirt, the one he wore to his career fair trips. He looked at me and said “I can stay until 11. I have work.”

I get in the taxi, I see Fran in the corner, he’s curled up on the side. He’s wearing his white polo with brown lines running down the shoulders. It reminded me of something Eric Foreman would wear on That 70’s Show. He has been helping my parents while I was in the room with my 30 or so guests.

My mom, who’s in the driver’s seat shouts “one more!”

There’s already three of us, but we open the door and some girl joins us. She’s larger, so we basically have 5 people in the back seat.

“My mom can’t drive. She hasn’t driven in so long. And in NYC,” I said.

“It okay! I drive!”

She merges onto the lane, almost hitting the parked car in front of us. I didn’t know why my mom was driving when we were in a taxi cab.

She almost hits a car, but is not panicking.

I’m scared.

Images overlap of bumpers, lights, wheels, white cars and yellow cars, and a few black ones.

She’s on a road that leads to the beach.

Mom stop the car!

The car keeps moving. My mom doesn’t respond. We’re in the water now, and I feel it seeping into my shoes.

I unbuckled my mom’s seatbelt. She’s laughing.

Mom, this isn’t a video game. It isn’t Mario Kart. We aren’t going to restart! Mom this is real life!

She laughs and waits for the screen to fade to black, for a screen to pop up telling you to press A to start a new game.

This is real life! There’s no restart! Get out!

My dream ends.

Dream catalogue: Death

All I remember is that I am hiding under our kitchen table. However, there's some cabinets covering me. But that wasn't enough. The gunman shot my head. It felt so weird, like I was swallowing blood but it wasn't horrible. It took me to a different world. It didn't hurt. I guess I passed out for a few minutes because I remember Chloe was walking by me as I was on one of those ambulance beds. Once they put that oxygen mask on me, it felt so good. At the hospital, it turned out I was shot 4 times in the head. That's all I remember. 

This is for my dad

My co-worker handed me the white boxcutter. It looked like a stick of peppermint gum but had the texture and weight of a beer opener. Of course, a red square with the words UNIQLO written in white capital letters sat at the end of the razor. It belonged to them.

I took the tool, retracted the sharp blade, and sliced through the tape. I felt cruel destroying this box even though it has consistently excelled in storing perfectly folded linen shirts. The sharpness of the razor sure beats my well inked blue Bic pen, which will stick to it's role of transcribing the daily sales goal and whatnot.

This utility knife felt familiar. I have seen it before, piles of them actually, in all different colors, though I mostly remember orange and dark grey. They appeared less polished, lighter because it was molded plastic and not metal. More used, with strips of packing tape holding the blade in place. These segmented blade utility knives rested in our monochromatic filing cabinet with its charcoal colored drawers and handles. It was located in our dining area between my dad's homemade alter and a twin sized bed. My dad found it on the side of the street and insisted to carry it up a flight of stairs just so it can consume more space in our already crowded two bedroom apartment. It became home to the knives, old VHS tapes varying from home videos to Paris By Night concert series, usb cords, and other tangled electronic items.

I never knew why we had so many of of them. I've never seen my dad cut anything at home. Then,  for some reason, at that moment of me breaking down the box, it occurred to me that he used them for the same reason. He opened a lot of them at the shoe warehouse where he worked.  Here I was, doing exactly what my dad has been doing and still is doing for 15 years. I'm living what he still is struggling with now. He has been working there since 1997. That was his way of making money to support his wife and two kids. He had left the comforts of his homeland and his family, replaced a camera with a knife, and abandoned a huge house with a backyard full of jack fruit, gauva trees, and all sorts of fruits and vegetables for an upstairs corner two bedroom, one bathroom unit in an apartment that looked more like a motel.

I can't help but make comparisons and wonder if I'll be in the same shoes. Has he succeeded? His two kids are college graduates from outstanding universities. One has a good job, and the other is still searching. It's hard to say. His goal was for us to have an education and pursue any occupation we wanted, and raise our own families and make enough money to support them. In that case, he has succeeded.

But I feel that if he knew what his daughter has been doing - working at a store, moving boxes, using razors like he did - he would be mad.

"I didn't come here so you can work like that," he would probably say.

But Dad,  I understand your struggle now. I used to ask you why you were always tired all the time from work. Why you sighed and huffed and only sat in front of the computer every time you came home.  I now do the same. I'm now somewhat living your life and barely getting by (except I have no one else to support except myself). I don't want to repeat that step.

I will get out of there. It's just a step I need to take to get elsewhere. Lucky for me, I have you and mom for support. And lucky for me, my family is in the same country and I can visit them any time. Lucky for me, I have the opportunities you never did.

It doesn't end on the razors as a comparison. I'm also picking up furniture from the street. I'm taking an hour to buy toilet paper because I need to compare and find the best value.

I moved to NYC by myself to pursue a dream, as you did when you left Vietnam. I know it's a bit farfetched comparing my journey to yours, I can't help it. You've inspired me to do this. And I can't let you down. I came here for a reason and when I go back home, you'll be living in a house with a backyard full of fruits and vegetables. And when I get home, I'll throw away all of your razors.  You won't need them anymore.